


racing in circles again

by ahealthyscalp



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: F/F, collection, oneshots, too lazy to turn them into full stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23942104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahealthyscalp/pseuds/ahealthyscalp
Summary: Different pairings for stories based on video games or animes.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Park Sooyoung | Joy, Kang Seulgi/Park Sooyoung | Joy, Kang Seulgi/Son Seungwan | Wendy
Kudos: 20





	1. one last stop before we go to hell

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my collection of Red Velvet one-shots and short works. They’re mostly ideas that I never managed to turn into full fics.
> 
> Title is from EDEN’s 909 

Everything is perfect. The night sky is clear, stars peeking out, watching over them. The breeze lightly tickles their skin, chasing away the summer heat. Two figures settled, sitting on the grass. One cradling the other in their lap. Caressing wispy hair, threading fingers through the strands. 

“Hey,” the girl murmurs, not bothering to glance up. 

“Hi.” A quiet reply. Carefree, all burdens lifted. Gone. 

“It’s beautiful tonight.” 

“It is. We’ve never gotten the chance to admire the view.” The girl coughs and hands hold on tighter. 

“Do you think we’ll see the stars again?” There’s no response. Silence is her answer. She smiles and she knows it’s enough. A white lie wouldn’t ease her mind. 

Coughing violently fills the air. Everything could be perfect. They’re here, illuminated by the moonlight. Basking in each other’s presence. 

From this dream they’ve concocted, fooling themselves just for the night, they must wake up. Her breaths slow, taking in less air. Light and shallow. From above, drops fall, landing on her cheeks.

“Sooyoung, don’t cry.” The grip loosens, hand searching for the other pair. Clasping them together. She continues. 

“It’s not your fault.” Her sight begins to blur. The world is darkening as each breath weighs her down. Her shirt is damp, wet and she wishes it’s because of the tears. A hoarse voice croaks to life. 

“I know.” Even with limited vision, she sees red, blooming across her chest. Stemming from the protruding steel. Hearing her companion’s words erases the last of her regrets. She thinks of the stars, the wind, the night. Of the beauty she hopes to remember forever. 

She can finally let go. 

* * *

Joy blinks, recovering from her daze. A distant memory of a girl and the stars replays in her head. There’s no use in trying to remember. She has flashbacks of the scene every now and then, but they’re never clear. In particular, her head hurts when she tries to remember the girl’s face. The memory is definitely from her days as a human. Which makes her all the more curious. It’s a gnawing hunger for knowledge. 

She focuses her attention on the task at hand. Brandishing her cloth, the glass never becomes clearer. No matter how much she wipes it, there's a limit. Allowing her to peek through, being transparent, yet simultaneously translucent. That’s not the only fault. A single crack near the rim, the length of her thumb runs down the side. No amount of cleaning can fix it. 

She puts the cup onto the counter. Drumming her fingers, she throws the cloth to the back, a splash of water signalling it's in the sink. Her leg bounces up and down and her fingers tap the sides of her stool. Barely a single soul is here today; she reckons it must be peaceful in the world of the living. Less fighting and dying.

The wind chimes hanging from the door jingle. She doesn’t look up until the newcomer sits in front of her. It’s a woman in a black coat, hair parted perfectly. Arms resting by her side. She’s relieved she finds an air of indifference clinging to the lady. The woman’s small frame does not betray a hint of nervousness. 

Almost everyone would slip up. They show their weakness, in all its pitiful glory. Shaking limbs and fingers, tear-stained faces, regret etched onto their very being. The ones that show such fragility bore her. Comforting people is monotonous, nurturing their ego is futile. She’s unable to comprehend humans. They seek guidance and a final moment of tranquility for their soul. However, nothing will change, their fate has been predetermined. From the moment of death. 

“What can I get for you?” she asks the woman. Tilting her head, the woman gazes at the row of bottles lined behind the bartender. 

“Give me whatever’s the strongest,” the woman pauses, voice a bit husky. Leaning forward, the woman squints, catching a glimpse of a name tag. 

“Joy.” The bartender smiles, pleased to hear her name. Turning around, she stands and grabs various bottles, ready to make a deadly concoction. Hands move deftly, pouring clear liquid into a shaker.

“Ice?”

“No,” replies the woman. Joy shakes it few more times for good measure. Then she pours the mixture into the cup, pushing it towards the woman. 

“What’s your name, stranger?” 

“Do I have to return the drink if I tell you?” Sitting back down, Joy drums her fingers on the table again. 

“Just a procedure. The drink is all yours,” Joy replies. The woman instantly downs the entire glass, slamming the empty cup onto the counter. The bartender simply stares, amused to her very core. Mortals usually savour their drink here because it’s their last one. She’s liking this human already.

“Irene, do you know why you’re here?” The woman is unfazed, doesn’t question how Joy knows her name. 

“I suppose I’ve died. Am I being sent to Hell?” Irene says softly. Not a tone of fear. Joy is stunned for a moment. A self-aware human, dressed in dignity and deferring to death. She could get used to this. 

“Correct. You’re rather peculiar, I must say.” Irene chuckles lightly at Joy’s words, throwing her head back. Slapping the counter.

“I’ve been wishing, dreaming of this. The days were slow enough when I was alive,” admits Irene. Joy laughs as well, remembering her short stay as a human above. The tedium of a routine, the empty feeling of coming home exhausted. Worked to the bone, feeling nothing. 

That was eons ago during a reign of terror. Boredom still strikes her nowadays, but the empty feeling is gone. 

“Tell me of your life. Maybe you’ll be spared from Hell,” jokes Joy. A quick shake of the head, the corner of Irene’s lips rise. Joy quirks her eyebrow. 

“I was a doctor. I killed my patients instead of saving them.” Irene’s voice does not waver. 

“How?”

“I gave them placebos,” she pauses. Eyes shift up to meet Joy’s, reflecting nothing. 

“Or maybe they were poison.” The doctor’s tone drops. Raw honesty, in its uncut form. 

“Any regrets? Again, just protocol,” Joy adds. 

“No. My death ended their suffering. I’m happy now.” 

“Are you?” Irene doesn’t answer, getting up from the stool. Joy snorts, drumming her fingers faster. 

“No one goes to Hell until I say so,” the bartender plainly states. Irene stops moving, back turned to her. 

“Are you sending me back to the world of the living then?” 

“I could.” 

“Liar.”

“Would staying silent have been better?” Joy muses. 

“Yes. I despise white lies. Empty promises.” Irene walks towards the doorway.

Observing her leave, Joy is conflicted. There’s something familiar about Irene, but she can’t place it. It reminds her of the girl under the stars, dying, smiling as said girl takes her last breaths. 

She shouldn’t pursue the answers though. Her human memories are of another time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This reincarnation au was inspired by the anime Death Parade. I’ve never watched it so this is very loosely based on it. 


	2. one last stop to hell 2

On replay, flashing through her mind. The sequence is looping and she shouldn’t be bothered by it. Except she is. When she cleans the bottles, dusts the floor, she sees the faceless girl. The images consume her, swallowing her sanity. 

Joy doesn’t understand. She was promised a new beginning, a clean slate. Free of her old memories. She had taken the withering hand in the dark, allowing it to guide her out of Hell. There, she opened her eyes, finding herself in somber lights. Inhaling the acrid scent of alcohol. 

It was a new beginning. She had no recollection of her previous life and she preferred it that way. Nonetheless, piece by piece, they were returning. First the girl. Her steps, her hands. A vague idea. An outline. 

Then it was a voice. Laughter would dissolve into hums, deeper melodies. Lately, she thinks she hears the harmony line, a lighter tone, burdenless. Resolving the other girl’s dissonance, ending on a finished note. 

She must be going crazy because the voice crooning the melody is reminiscent of Irene. And the voice supplying the harmony sounds like her own. She most likely is insane. 

Something has been amiss since she spoke with that woman. 

* * *

_ “Can you keep up?” The girl in front turns around, jogging backwards. Teasing her, mouth wide open. Laughing at the world, inviting everyone to listen. Short puffs of air leak out. She does her best. Muscles burning.  _

_ She runs, finally being a foot away from her.  _

_ “We’re almost there, Sooyoung.”  _

_ “You said that ten minutes ago.” The girl sticks out her tongue, feet shifting. Whirling. Sprinting faster than before. She groans.  _

_ “Wait up!” She chases her deeper into the forest. Branches scraping, leaves nicking shallow cuts on her skin. She doesn’t care. She only feels the high, exhilaration urging her to run. Run and don’t stop.  _

_ The other girl stops abruptly. She skids on the wet grass, crashing into her. Sending them both to the ground. A shrill scream. She barely feels pain, the fall cushioned by the body underneath her.  _

_ “Get off, you’re heavy,” the girl protests. She grins, taking her chance to enact revenge.  _

_ “No.”  _

_ “Fine. We’re here anyway.” She rolls off the girl and lies on her back.  _

_ “So you wanted to show me something?” she asks.  _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “Where is it?” A shake of her head, lips curling.  _

_ “I wanted to show you the view.” She huddles closer, seeking comfort.  _

_ “Oh. You wanted to show me an ugly glade?” She shouldn’t have said anything. But the punches don’t hurt, not when the both of them are cackling, the wind accompanying their voices.  _

* * *

Perhaps the solution is to have another talk with Irene. It’s logical. The problem started with Irene; therefore, it would make sense for it to end with her. A talk, that’s it. 

No more looping sequences, scenes on replay. She’ll continue her existence without curiosity urging her forward. However, there’s the nagging thought. What if they don’t cease? She concludes that speaking with Irene will at least confirm her suspicion. Ease her mind, running at unimaginable speeds. 

Thousands of years may have passed since she spoke to Irene. She doesn’t know. Time is hard to track here and she has given up on it altogether. If many years have gone by, then she supposes her idea is sound. She has had plenty of time to think it over. 

Joy believes Irene is the same girl. The one who she ran in a forest with. The one who was there when she saw the stars. The girl who she murdered. She’s certain about it, but the last one confuses her. The memory haunts her. 

She remembers red, staining the fabric. Her hand slipping due to the blood. She has asked herself again and again. Why did she do it? 

The answer is within her grasp. Perhaps she’s holding herself back, scared of what she’ll find. 

* * *

_ Darting past the shriveled trunks and twisting vines, in pursuit of her target, her heart is in overdrive. Thrilled by the hunt. Just a bit more and her job will be done. One lifeless body, unmasked. Her pace quickens, legs ablaze. Shaking the trodden ground. Bursting into the clearing.  _

_ She readies her dagger, her prey is slowing, tired from the chase. Loud panting drums in her ears. She can close the gap. A meter. She lunges.  _

_ Force crashing, tumbling, they grapple each other. Strength fueling her arms, she flips the hooded figure over. Steel driving down.  _

_ She never misses. The figure chokes, grabbing her arms. Resistance is futile. She pushes, harder, harder.  _

_ The mask is ripped off and she stops. Hands trembling, she wants to vomit. A grotesque sensation rushes through her system. Surging in droves. _

* * *

When it is all quiet, Joy descends, finding her in Hell. She extends a hand, offering the woman a new beginning. A glance, a look. Irene accepts, holding on tightly. 

They return and Joy pours out her questions. On the edge, she asks and asks. 

The woman doesn’t have an answer for her. Joy can’t contain her disappointment, all this wondering, thinking, dreaming, all for nothing. She slides down onto the floor, staring at the bottles on the top shelf. Sounds of shuffling, weight bumping into her. Irene sits beside her and they both don’t speak. Not for awhile. Joy taps her foot, clears her throat.

“I should take you back.”

“Can I stay a little longer?” Joy stretches out her legs, yawning. She doesn’t see why not.

“How long?” Irene is mute. She breathes out, frustrated from the lack of response. This doesn’t have to be difficult. 

“If you don’t want to go, I must erase your human memories.” Irene rests her head on Joy’s shoulder. It’s odd, yet familiar, like the girl in the sequences. Maybe she’s trapped in this fantasy, cursed to dream.

“Then take them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :D


	3. one last stop before we go to hell 3

_ Running. That's all Sooyoung can do. What she always does.  _

_ Is this how she’s going to go? She doesn’t want to think about it. Not now. She covers her mouth with her hand, desperate to not let any sound escape. Tears stream down her cheeks. Damn. She promised she wasn’t going to cry. She had hardened her resolve and now what? Empty promises, an overflowing mind. An influx of feelings.  _

_ Joohyun. Glassy eyes, smiling like she had it all in the world, without a hint of anger or grief. Aware of Sooyoung’s sin, aware of the blade in her body, yet Joohyun smiled and welcomed her farewell with dignity. She shouldn’t have done it.  _

_ But it should be nothing to her. It’s just a lump of flesh, just like any other kill. Just like every night. Wasn’t it?  _

_ Emotions are cruel, feelings are worthless. When she had received the order, she should’ve known better than to play with her food. Instead, she had opted for a grand reveal, to unmask her target while plunging in her dagger. It made sense at the time; her target was the most elusive, the hardest to catch. A whole month had gone by, marked with failed attempts. Games of constant pursuits, near captures, and repeated escapes.  _

_ Sooyoung wonders now, wonders whether Joohyun always knew. That one night, everything would fall into the cracks, swallowing them whole. The girl willingly lived on borrowed time, approaching her assassin. Conscious of the danger.  _

_ The thought of Joohyun knowing. That’s what sickens her the most.  _

* * *

__

Joy should take Irene’s human memories immediately, but she wants to hear about the girl’s life above. To hear more than just short pleasantries and curt deflections. 

There they are, sitting on the floor, side by side. She understands Irene is waiting for her to do something. Irene has closed her eyes, breathing in an even rhythm. Joy wants to wait a little longer. 

“Tell me more about yourself,” says Joy. Irene stirs, opening her eyes. Joy finally shuffles away from the girl, setting space in between them. Irene softly groans at the loss of contact. 

“I was a doctor. Same old story I’ve told you before.” 

“Tell me about where you lived.” A pause. A moment to collect her thoughts. 

“I grew up in a city of vice. Crime was everywhere, you couldn’t escape, no matter how hard you tried. Everything was corrupted. Tainted,” says Irene. Those last words spark memories, human memories. They’re not simply relatable, Joy thinks they could be used to describe her own human life. 

Irene looks at her, eyes piercing into her own pair. Examining, scanning for judgement. Joy tries to appear sympathetic. As much as she can be. 

“I wanted to leave the city so I became a doctor. To earn enough money. Just enough to get away, but let’s say… my unsavoury business practices were catching up to me. Pushing me further, molding me to be just like them,” adds Irene. 

“Just like who?” 

“In the end, I was no different from the criminal scum of the city. I became one of them.” Irene stands, reaching for the bottles on the shelf. Joy doesn’t move. She lets her grab one, allows her to uncork it. Watches her drink. 

“How did you die?” Joy asks. Irene laughs, putting down the bottle. Wholeheartedly chuckling at her question. 

“I made enough enemies so a rat was sent to kill me. He did it while I was asleep,” replies Irene. 

“An assasination.”

“Yes. An assasination.” Irene finishes the rest of the bottle and throws it into the sink. The shattering of glass. Joy’s curiosity dies with the broken bottle. She’s a bit irritated, irked. Those bottles are expensive. She sees Irene reaching for another unopened bottle. 

“Stop.” Irene freezes in place, then the balls of her feet lower back to the ground.

“Once I take away your human memories, you will never be reincarnated. Are you willing to accept that?” mutters Joy. She feels Irene beside her again. No space separates them. 

“Yes.” Her voice doesn’t waver. 

“You will spend an eternity here with me, greeting the dead before they go to Hell,” says Joy. 

“I’m fine with that,” comes the quick reply. Joy pulls the girl down, forcing her to lie on her lap. Bearing her weight. She gently presses her thumbs to Irene’s forehead. 

“Close your eyes, it will be painless.”

* * *

_ “Sooyoung! Look at that, it’s an eclipse!”  _

_ “Mm, yes. A solar eclipse. Very impressive.”  _

_ “Could you not fake your enthusiasm for once?” Sooyoung exaggerates her frown, looking quite comical. Eyebrows knit for further effect. Only to stop when she is pushed to the ground, face first lying in the dirt. She turns around, sitting up.  _

_ “Hey!” Irene hums in response. Hums the same old melody. Rising and falling in tones. Lulling Sooyoung, hushing her. Sooyoung doesn’t retaliate, she only listens.  _

_ When Joohyun finishes, Sooyoung senses the girl has something to say. Something serious because Joohyun is tugging at the grass, looking away from her. Eyes staring at the glowing ridges surrounding the moon.  _

_ “What do you think happens when we die?” asks Joohyun.  _

_ “Heaven. A life of eternity. Haven’t you been listening to the priest?”  _

_ “And what if I haven’t?”  _

_ “You’ll go to hell while I’ll go to heaven,” says Sooyoung. _

_ “Please.” Joohyun’s gaze is directed at her. Eyes pleading. Sooyoung recognizes it’s time to stop, but she can’t resist a final remark.  _

_ “I will see you before you go to hell. I promise.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we have it, I actually finished this and it’s the true end to what was supposed to be a oneshot. Ough. This one kind of wrote itself, flowing, and I didn’t have to think much about it. It just seemed fitting to end it like this. 
> 
> I originally didn’t believe I would be able to flesh out the story even more, but here we are. Some things to the story are still left unexplained and I think it’s better that way. Joy will never know for sure whether Irene is Joohyun’s reincarnation. Their full backstory will never be explored.
> 
> As for the ending, after Irene’s human memories are gone, I’d like to imagine Joy and Irene are just sipping drinks and bartending in a Death Parade kind of bar. Living their best lives. 


	4. parasol beings (Seuldy)

30 minutes have passed. The subject shows no signs of movement. 

Wendy stares at her watch and frowns. It’s two o’clock, just in time for inspections. She can already imagine her supervisor on his way. That crotchety old man with the temper of a dragon. 

The doors behind her open with a bang and the stomping burrows into her ear. She puts the syringe on the table. Shoves her hands into her pockets. Any moment now, he’ll see the mess she has created. 

“Wendy! What have you done?” She feels him walking closer. 

“I told you to inject the virus into the dog and keep it alive. You did the complete opposite.” He throws his hands in the air, outraged. 

“Can’t you follow instructions, through that thick skull of yours?” The dog is clearly dead, lifeless on the table. Legs splayed awkwardly as if it had a seizure. Wendy turns around and bows, spine level.

“Sorry sir.” Her supervisor picks up the syringe, rigid cords in his neck on display. Narrowed eyes focusing on the leftover drops still inside. He slams the syringe back down.

“One milliliter, not five! What will I tell Ashford now?.”

“I apologize for my negligence. It won’t happen again, sir.” His footsteps fade, the doors shut with force. She then stands straight, observing her work. A few months ago, she would’ve bawled, choking on tears at the sight. Today, she only feels relief. 

She supposes she has developed an immunity to this sort of occurrence. The dog’s fate was sealed when it entered the facility. She reminds herself the dog is in a better place, rather than being stuck in limbo. Not quite alive, yet not dead either. 

The correct choice was to deliver a painless, merciful death. 

* * *

She drops her bag, limbs collapsing onto the couch. Seulgi, her roommate, nods at her. Eyes trained on the TV. 

“How was work?” Seulgi asks. 

“Fine. The usual.” The other girl hums, then points at the screen. 

“Would you look at that. Umbrella Corporation expanding into the tourism industry.” 

“Yeah. Risky business moves,” Wendy drones. Seeing the familiar red and white symbol is sickening. 

“Paraguas Line, ready to transport passengers across the Atlantic.”

“Funny name for a cruise line, huh?” she says dryly. 

“I think it’s brilliant. There’s the exotic Spanish feeling. Paraguas, umbrella—” 

“Ok, ok. I get it.” Seulgi cocks her head, cheeks puffed out. 

“Shouldn’t you be more interested? Since you work at Umbrella.” 

“Umbrella’s pharmaceutical division, not its subsidiary,” Wendy corrects her. Seulgi stretches her legs, yawning, mouth wide open. 

“It’s late, I’m going to crash. I have to interview someone tomorrow.” 

“Who?” 

“You know him. Dr. Ashford, founder of Umbrella.” 

* * *

The German Shepherd whines, awakened by the swaying cage. Wendy huffs and lifts the cage onto the table. Breathing heavily through her nose, she pushes open the double door, heads into the hallway. 

Force collides with her and she stumbles backwards. Blonde hair obscures her vision, hands steadying her. 

“Oh hey Yeri.”

“You’re going for refills too?” She snickers at the casual undertone of Yeri’s question. Working here has caused them to trivialize everything, especially the nature of their projects. 

“New day, new dog,” Wendy replies, head bobbing. 

“Done with the poodles?” 

“Don’t underestimate poodles. They’re vicious little canines.” They walk down the hall, to the lab. Animalistic whimpers and low howls emanate from various doors. Similarly, they’re both accustomed to the noises. Overthinking leads to unnecessary worry. 

“We’re moving onto German Shepherds. At least my division is,” Wendy provides. 

“Hmm. Our latest test subject hasn’t arrived yet. I’ve been told it’ll be delivered soon.” 

“So you’re finished with the Dobermans?” 

“Yep. All of my team’s results are up for review,” declares Yeri. Reaching their destination, Wendy taps her ID on the sensor, unlocking the door. 

“After you.” A high-pitched scream rings in the air. 

“Did you hear that?” Her co-worker is frozen, eyebrows raised. Rapidly blinking. Nervous laughter escapes.

“I’m sure it was nothing. J-just another day of testing,” Yeri splutters. 

“But that wasn’t a dog,” Wendy counters.

“Then what is it? A human?” Their eyes meet incredulously. Her heart beats faster, pounding in her chest. The scream was a bit distinct, a bit nasal. Female. No. She shouldn’t entertain the idea. 

“Don’t joke around like that.” 

* * *

The hand strikes 11 o’clock. Night has fallen and Wendy hasn’t gone to bed, despite her shift starting at 6 in the morning. She paces back and forth, glancing ever so often at her watch. 

Seulgi still hasn’t come home. Wendy understands the other girl’s job has odd hours. Her work schedule isn’t fixed, being a reporter. Moreover, Seulgi did mention she was interviewing Ashford today, a striking individual. Head of a billion-dollar company, a savvy entrepreneur, and a genius researcher. Changing the world of science as they know it. 

It wouldn’t be unusual if Seulgi took longer to interview him. Definitely not. 

Wendy has met him once. She remembers all the employees huddled around the lab table. In shock from the demonstration of the new virus. The bed-ridden young girl was wracked with an incurable disease. 

They witnessed a phenomenon, years beyond the current capability of medicine. He had cured her with the virus. 

The entire room descended into applause. Nevertheless, she’s certain everyone had sensed his raging ambition. A corporate head, eager to pursue self-interest and maximize profit. Testing the virus on his daughter may have been a last resort, but the outcome has proven to be a success. The virus is capable of working wonders on humans and he will undoubtedly exploit it to its ends. 

In particular, she can’t forget today’s abnormality. The piercing cry echoing through the hall. 

During the last meeting, her supervisor had mentioned Umbrella’s next step. More vigorous testing on different subjects. Not just the usual dogs, pigs, rabbits, and rats. 

Wendy fears the answer. She doesn’t want to arrive at the logical conclusion.

Keys clatter on the counter. Shaken, Wendy ceases her thoughts, searching for the source of the sound. Her lips tug into a wide grin. 

“Wendy, why are you up so late?” Seulgi scratches her face. 

“I had a nightmare.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zombie aus are common so I decided to write a pseudo-zombie au instead. No actual zombies appeared which made it more fun to write this short drabble. 
> 
> Shoutout to all the hags here who know which video game this is based on (Resident Evil). I hope you guys enjoyed the easter egg references. 


	5. drawings and sick jokes (joygi)

_ “In five minutes, I will run in and lock the door.” Seulgi grins from ear to ear, strengthened through her resolve. She might as well put on a brave face for the very last time.  _

_ The other girl’s trepidation reflects through her eyes. She has never seen Joy agitated, worried. It doesn’t suit her. Joy who’s always confident, sharp-tongued, spitting fire. It’s a completely foreign feeling to see her anxious.  _

_ Maybe she shouldn’t do it. This world doesn’t need another martyr, doesn’t have room for another dumb sacrificial hero. Joy certainly doesn’t want a blustering saviour. A dead one at that.  _

_ Seulgi tries to ignore the lump in her throat. She must be, no, she is fine with her decision. She is tired of irrational fear, of hiding, and paranoia. No other option exists and she can’t think of one. Joy can’t either. The girl is shaking, mind finally arriving at the conclusion Seulgi reached minutes ago. Tugging at her gas mask, Seulgi pulls it off and flings it to the ground, fresh air hitting her lungs.  _

_ Now there’s one more thing to do. Seulgi holds out her sketchbook. That wretched, yet beautiful thing. _

_ Joy’s hands are trembling, reaching, stretching with discomfort. Fingers twitching. Seulgi steps closer, giving it to her. Makes sure she holds it tightly.  _

_ “So don’t worry and win, alright?” Seulgi gestures to her sketchbook. Teeth grinning, eyes crinkled. _

_ “Keep it safe for me.”  _

* * *

It’s a Sunday morning when she picks up her sketchbook and flips through, expecting blank pages. 

Seulgi finds herself looking at two cars, one black, the other white. Beasts of steel, crumpled into husks of their former selves. In other words, a car crash. Maybe she had drawn it in her delirium the previous night and it wouldn’t be the first time that happened.

She falls back on her bed, listening to the rain pelt her rooftop. There are quite a few errands to run, but the weather urges her to stay inside. Going out is the last thing she wants, but she shouldn’t allow the rain to tell her what to do. 

No. She must get it done. She’ll go to the print shop, scan her sketches quickly. Get them all printed, nice and clean. Then she can go home and relax all day. Curl up underneath her blanket. Be a burrito. Binge watch Netflix. Yes, that’s the plan. She wiggles her toes, stretching, motivating herself. Everything will go without a hitch. 

And it does. She doesn’t forget her umbrella either. She runs to the shop, sketchbook tucked away, safe in her backpack. Scans her drawings. Prints them. When she leaves, she yells out a goodbye to the owner, thankful for his help, only to hear the familiar patter of rain. 

Shaking her head, she opens her umbrella, quickens her pace. The red light stops her and she waits for the signal. Fingers tapping against her leg. She checks her watch. 

Oddly enough, it’s comforting to watch the hands strike twelve.

Traffic whizzes by, everyone keen on escaping the gloomy weather. Honking, reluctant use of the brake, road rage. The noises fade into the back as Seulgi shifts her weight, foot to foot. Staring at the crossing light. 

A sudden screech of tires, loud skidding, wakes her from her reverie. A bang, a crash, multiple cars blaring their horns. She snaps out of it, jumping away from the curb. Heart racing. 

There, in the middle of the intersection, are two cars, black and white. They’ve crashed head on, hoods crumpled, windows shattered. Glass shards cover the street. Seulgi hears the faint sound of sirens in the distance. 

The hairs on her skin rise, her blood freezing. She knows she should worry about the drivers in the accident, yet that’s not on the forefront of her mind. It’s the cars. She has seen them before.

With one hand, she opens the flap of her backpack and pulls out her sketchbook. Flips to a certain page, eyes bulging in amazement. She thought she drew them so how is it possible? The cars, the configuration of the crash scene, are the exact same. The drawing isn’t the most detailed, but anyone could tell it’s a sketch of the car crash. 

Groaning emits from the black car and Seulgi turns her attention back to the crash scene. A hand stretches through the window, followed by a torso, and eventually the whole body. The figure crawls on the ground, painstakingly slow. Desperately clutching a fractured flip phone. Eyes fluttering listlessly, arms give way, slumping down.

Seulgi wants to help. She wants to move, to rush to the injured boy, but she doesn’t. She’s rooted to the ground, frozen, slightly dazed. 

Her mind warns her, preventing her from running onto the street. Something is about to happen. 

Spluttering coughs and the driver of the white car stumbles out from the wreckage. Legs unsteady, wobbling. Long unkempt black hair shielding her face. She’s relatively unscathed, compared to the boy. 

Dark eyes meet Seulgi, daring her to come closer. Like a caged, cornered animal. A step. Two steps. The girl seizes the flip phone and breaks into a run, back turned, fleeing into a narrow alley. 

* * *

More drawings appear. All in pencil, one for every page. She recognizes each one, she sees them in her life. They’re events or hints of them, almost as if they’re warning her. A basketball, keys on the ground, stolen wallets. She was hit by a stray basketball, lost her keys, and her wallet full of coupons was stolen. And it all happened on the same day. Seulgi has never thought of herself as having bad luck, but that day was something else.

The sketches appear before the events happen, sometimes shifting before her eyes, as if to say the future is always changing. Seulgi thinks she has it figured out. Three drawings per day, each corresponding to a specific time. Noon, sunset, and midnight. 

Obviously, she doesn’t tell anyone about it. Not that she had anyone to tell. The sketchbook is more of an amusing trick to her, something like entertainment for her eyes only. So she continues with her life, going about it normally. The drawings are a benign addition to her life and nothing seems to be off at the moment. 

Except there’s the car crash. Its circumstances are odd, the details surrounding it are peculiar. She sees it reported on the news, hears about it on the radio. A young male, 25, of Asian descent, pronounced dead when the ambulance arrived. The coroners are still working on the cause of death. 

Everyone is asking questions. Didn’t he die because of the car crash? Isn’t it just that simple? The medical examiners are puzzled, finding no sign of impact on his body. He also had no history of heart problems. Nothing. Nothing, but scratches, shallow scars on his body. 

* * *

Seulgi isn’t surprised when another girl sits down at 12 pm, grabs her cup, and downs her precious coffee in a single gulp. A girl with long black hair, prominent bags under her eyes, pale dry lips. 

The same girl from the car crash. 

“Fucking Tim Hortons coffee. Why do you drink that shit?” A glare is thrown her way, along with a smartphone onto the table. Screen glowing, phone unlocked. Seulgi stays silent, annoyed. She didn’t ask for a reminder of her financial situation as a broke student. 

“Look at you, all nice and relaxed. It won’t be that way for long,” the tired girl grumbles. Ruffling her hair, scratching the crown of her head, she sighs. Throws her arms to the side, leaves them dangling, and slouches further down her chair. 

“You’re a diary owner?” Seulgi frowns, confused from the question. A diary? She hasn’t had one since she was seven. 

“A what?” 

“A diary. A phone. A scroll. Paper. Whatever.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. And you just drank all of my cheap coffee!”

“The coffee was awful so I just did you a favour. Listen, Seulgi. I don’t have any time to spare. I know you can predict the future with the sketchbook in your bag.” Joy’s stare sends her squirming in her seat. The girl is spot on.

“Can you see into the future too?” 

“Why else would I ask you? Give me your number.” Joy snorts, pointing to her phone. Hesitantly, Seulgi picks it up and inputs her contact information. Something tells her to trust Joy. 

“You done? Let’s go, this place will explode in 10 minutes.”

“What?” Seulgi exclaims. Joy stands, stretching her arms behind her back. 

“Stop asking so many questions. Stay here if you want to be blown to bits.” The other girl runs out, boosted by caffeine. Seulgi has to sprint to catch up. 

“What about the people inside the cafe?” she pants. 

“It’s us or them. We can’t save everyone, that’s just how it is.” Joy stops in front of a van, gets in and Seulgi follows. As if she has done this all her life, Joy starts the car, speeding away. Soon, Seulgi hears the unmistakable sound of explosions and sirens. Distraught screams along the sidewalks. Joy grunts, eyebrows knitting. 

“Damn that yandere. Always out to kill me.” Seulgi is beyond confused at this moment. Everything is happening so fast. Meeting Joy again. Leaving the building in a hurry. The cafe exploding. 

“What’s going on?” Seulgi grips the edge of her seat as Joy drives like mad, weaving through the streets. Determined to distance themselves from the scene of the explosion. 

“You aren’t the only one who can tell the future. There are others who can too and we’re all screwed. You’ve heard about the Hunger Games?” Joy says listlessly, keeping her eyes on the road. 

“The book with KatPee or PeeN—” A hand is slapped over her mouth, spreading a light stinging sensation. 

“Do not talk about ship names in my presence,” Joy warns, one hand still steering the wheel. Seulgi nods, scared to aggravate the girl. The hand is removed and Joy smirks, satisfied.

“I’ll keep it simple. We’re in a fight to the death, like the Hunger Games, but it’s called Survival Games. Whoever wins gets to be overlord of the universe.” 

“That explains nothing.” 

“Well excuse me, you joined late, and missed the meeting with Deus, the God of Time and Space!” Seulgi can feel eyes burning into her soul and she almost feels apologetic; thus, there’s only one suitable reaction to Joy’s outburst. 

“Huh?” The van screeches to a halt. 

“I’ll keep it even simpler for you. Me. You. Good. Yandere. Pink hair. Useless boy. One-eyed pirate. C4s. Laser beam. Crotch. Bad.” She can’t help, but feel Joy’s jazz hands are mocking her. If what Joy says is true, she has to cooperate with the other girl to survive.

“Ok.” 

“Don’t ask me about the laser beam incident. That yandere has been watching too many James Bond movies.” Seulgi isn’t curious about it. She can imagine plenty already. 

The van lurches back to life and Joy continues to drive haphazardly. Speeding over speed bumps, running over manholes, driving onto the curb. Seulgi grips her seat tighter, turning pale. 

“I saw you at the car crash, what were you doing there?” Seulgi says carefully. A grunt.

“Murdering a diary owner, what else?” Joy’s tone is too casual for Seulgi’s liking. It’s uncomfortable, how the girl speaks about it. 

“By crashing your car into his?” Seulgi exclaims, voice raising. 

“He was going to crash his into mine first!”

“Ok, then how did he die?” With one hand off the wheel, Joy scratches her nose, and veers to the left. Screams from the pedestrians spur her on. She snickers while they dodge her van and poor Seulgi can only continue to grip her seat tighter.

“The impact fractured his phone and poof, he gave himself the D-word.” Seulgi blinks, face reddening. Joy doesn’t notice.

“He’s dead. He died because his ‘diary’ was destroyed,” Joy adds. 

“Is it the same for us?”

“Why don’t you find out? Give me your sketchbook.” They veer to the hard right, squishing Seulgi against the glass window. The high-pitched cackle further grates on her nerves.

* * *

A step into the janitor’s closet and she doesn’t know what she was expecting earlier. The space is cramped with shelves against the walls. Mops are propped up in the corner, a ladder is beside them, and two buckets of water are sitting in the sink. She supposes that she’s lucky there are two sleeping bags on the floor so they don’t have to share. 

“Welcome to my casa. Feel free to explore as I plot the death of my next victim,” Joy whistles. The girl grabs two cans of tuna off the shelf and tosses one to Seulgi. Hands barely catching it. 

“Why are you helping me?” Seulgi questions. Joy sits on her sleeping bag, peeling her can open, inviting her to sit down beside her.

“All the ‘diaries’ given to us by Deus have special powers. Mine is that I can tell the future of anyone in my contacts, but I’m limited to a single person every day.” 

“Then why me?” 

“I learned about you through the dead guy’s diary. He was stalking you for a couple of days.” Joy shrugs, pouring tuna into her mouth. Shivers run through her spine at the girl’s remark. 

“I guess you’re pretty dumb if you didn’t know. He was going to kill you the night of the car crash.” Seulgi swallows thickly. 

‘I just… had no idea. I didn’t even know ‘future diaries’ existed back then!”

“You better get used to it. Now tell me your diary’s power.” 

“I think I’m able to see the future for three specific times of the day?” Joy huffs, disappointed. She grabs Seulgi’s tuna can out of her hands and peels it open. Seulgi seizes it back in a flash. 

“Bor-ing. You have the same power as the home alone child. Now that was an unpleasant kill. What a creepy ass five year old with his poison gas.” 

“What about the other’s powers?”

“The useless boy can tell the future of everything happening around him in a certain radius. I haven’t figured out the exact radius yet.” Joy chucks her own empty can into the far corner. Frowning, mouth shut, staring at who knows what.

“Keep on going?” Seulgi prompts. 

“No. I feel angry whenever I talk about whiny, useless boy and his diary’s unknown radius. My therapist told me to avoid bad-mouthing cowards.”

“Seriously?” 

“No, but I wish I had a therapist. If I win this and become overlord, you bet I will assign free therapy sessions for everyone in the universe.” Seulgi shakes her head, pinching her forehead. The other girl shrugs and pats her back. 

“The yandere can only keep tabs on the useless boy. Quite fitting she has the perfect diary for a stalker. And the pirate’s diary comes up with escape routes for her. An escape diary, if you will.”

“So she’s the hardest to catch?” A slap on the back, Seulgi coughs from the force. 

“Precisely! I always knew you were smart."

* * *

“With our luck, if everything stays the same, the yandere will kill the one-eyed pirate. A shame that she’ll die, she’s really sexy with her purple hair,” comments Joy, peering through her binoculars. Watching the confrontation. Seulgi rolls her eyes, preferring to monitor her sketchbook instead.

“Useless boy is hiding somewhere inside the school. Should we go after him?” 

“No, he’ll run away with the help of his diary. We’re not well-armed either and whose fault is that?” Joy retorts in a faux sickly manner. 

“Fine. What’s your plan then?” 

“We’re going to set a trap for whoever’s left alive with the help of dead creepy child’s leftover gas grenades. Pew pew. In with the gas. On with the masks. We win.”

“Great plan.” 

“Thanks. It took me three seconds to come up with it.” Seulgi snatches the binoculars from Joy.

“I was watching the hot girl’s last moments,” protests Joy. Seulgi is often unsure whether to take her seriously. The girl constantly jokes around. She supposes Joy is just an anomaly, the personification of wit, sarcasm and bravado. 

“Figure out a better plan instead of watching the hot girl.” 

“I met you two weeks ago and my plans have been saving your plump cheeks. Don’t rely on me every time.” Her tongue clicks in annoyance. Joy is right, once again. Sharp pressure digs into her ribs, persistently in intervals.

“Hey, I’m only teasing,” says Joy lightly. Seulgi buries her face into her sketchbook. 

“I hate this game. Have I set fire to Deus’ holy temple, grilling all of his uncooked virgins, in my previous life? Is this why I have to murder everyone in a competition?” Seulgi groans.

“Don’t blame yourself. Blame Deus for giving us the diaries. We don’t even have control over our futures.” 

“I have to consult a sketchbook for our every move. Can you believe it?” They grin in tandem, laughter flowing out of disbelief.

* * *

Bombs exploding here and there, flying hatchets, massive machine guns. The countless attempts on her life. She wouldn’t have survived this month if Joy wasn’t by her side, saving her almost every time. But today, this will all end. Today is the perfect day to execute their plan. 

“The trap wire goes here, the cannister here… Seulgi, do you have your gas mask ready?” Joy mutters. 

“Yes,” she replies, hands shaking a bit. She can’t calm her nerves. Grabbing her sketchbook, she flips through the pages, making sure the sketches are still there. The clock striking 6 pm. Two figures collapsing in a heap on the stairs.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine up here. We’re on the rooftop, far far away from them.” Seulgi wishes she has Joy’s confidence. She glances at the other girl, tinkering with the canister. Then she focuses back on her sketchbook. Her throat tightens. To her horror, the image of the dead bodies are gone. Replaced with Joy’s body, motionless on the ground, the clock striking a quarter to six at sunset. The words are stuck in her throat, refusing to leave. 

“They’ll be here in 5 minutes.” Joy stops moving, her smile wiped off her face. Panicked eyes meet her own, all mirth disappearing. 

They’re trapped on the rooftop.

“What? I need more time!” Seulgi wishes Joy had another response. Another plan to get them out, but there’s none. Joy, who has been so reliable, her pillar to lean on, cannot be relied on anymore. 

There must be another option. She sees the leftover poison gas grenades rolling on the floor, forcing her to think. To choose. They had planned to not use them, to save them as a last resort, but Seulgi knows what she has to do. Everything has been confusing since the car crash. But for once, the answer is clear, it has come to her mind quickly so Seulgi smiles. 

She rises to her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched Mirai Nikki (Future Diary) a couple years ago, but I never finished it. I think I gave up after five or six episodes because I thought the anime was pretty bad. The idea of a diary that tells the future was interesting enough, so here I am, having written an au based on the anime. 


End file.
